The note of the wood thrush answers to some cool unexhausted morning vigor in the hearer.
Maple-leaved viburnum well out at Laurel Glen.
The rattlesnake-plantain now surprises the walker amid the dry leaves on cool hillsides in the woods; of very simple form, but richly veined with longitudinal and transverse white veins. It looks like art.
The red-eyed vireo is the bird most commonly heard in the woods.
Visited the great orchis which I am waiting to have open completely. It is emphatically a flower (within gunshot of the hawk's nest); its great spike, six inches by two, of delicate pale-purple flowers, which begin to expand at bottom, rises above and contrasts with the green leaves of the hellebore and skunk-cabbage and ferns (by which its own leaves are concealed) in the cool shade of an alder swamp. It is the more interesting for its rarity and the secluded situations in which it grows, owing to which it is seldom seen, not thrusting itself on the observation of men. It is a pale purple, as if from growing in the shade. It is not remarkable in its stalk and leaves, which indeed are commonly concealed by other plants.
Norway cinquefoil. A wild moss rose in Arethusa Meadow, where are arethusas lingering still.
The sidesaddle-flowers are partly turned up now and make a great show, with their broad red petals flapping like saddle ears (?)
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 12, 1853
The note of the wood thrush . . . See June 22, 1853 ("This is the only bird whose note affects me like music, affects the flow and tenor of my thought, my fancy and imagination. . . . All that is ripest and fairest in the wilderness and the wild man is preserved and transmitted to us in the strain of the wood thrush.")
The red-eyed vireo is the bird most commonly heard in the woods. See June 11, 1852 (" The red-eye sings now in the woods, perhaps more than any other bird. “)
Visited the great orchis which I am waiting to have open completely. See note to June 20, 1859 ("Great purple fringed orchis") See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Purple Fringed Orchids
The sidesaddle-flowers . . . make a great show, with their broad red petals flapping like saddle ears. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Purple Pitcher Plant
June 12. Sunday. P. M. — To Bear Hill.
Maple-leaved viburnum well out at Laurel Glen, probably 9th.
The laurel probably by day after to morrow.
The note of the wood thrush answers to some cool unexhausted morning vigor in the hearer.
The leaf of the rattlesnake-plantain now surprises the walker amid the dry leaves on cool hillsides in the woods; of very simple form, but richly veined with longitudinal and transverse white veins.
It looks like art. Crows, like hawks, betray the neighborhood of their nests by harsh scolding at the intruder while they circle over the top of the wood.
The red-eyed vireo is the bird most commonly heard in the woods.
The wood thrush and the cuckoo also are heard now at noon. The round-leaved cornel fully out on Heywood Peak, but not in the woods. Did I mention that the sawed stump of the chestnut made a seat within the bower formed by its sprouts ? Going up Pine Hill, disturbed a partridge and her brood. She ran indeshabille directly to me, within four feet, while her young, not larger than a chicken just hatched, dispersed, flying along a foot or two from the ground, just over the bushes, for a rod or two. The mother kept close at hand to attract my attention, and mewed and clucked and made a noise as when a hawk is in sight. She stepped about and held her head above the bushes and clucked just like a hen. What a remarkable instinct that which keeps the young so silent and prevents their peeping and betraying themselves! The wild bird will run almost any risk to save her young. The young, I believe, make a fine sound at first in dispersing, something like a cherry-bird. I find beechnuts already about fully grown for size, where a tree overhangs Baker's hillside, and there are old nuts on the ground. Were they sound? This tree must have blossomed early, then. A light-green excrescence three inches in diameter on a panicled andromeda. The lint still comes off the bushes on to my clothes. The hedyotis long leaved out; only two or three plants to be found; probably some days.
Visited the great orchis which I am waiting to have open completely. It is emphatically a flower (within gunshot of the hawk's nest); its great spike, six inches by two, of delicate pale-purple flowers, which begin to expand at bottom, rises above and contrasts with the green leaves of the hellebore and skunk-cabbage and ferns (by which its own leaves are concealed) in the cool shade of an alder swamp. It is the more in teresting for its rarity and the secluded situations in which it grows, owing to which it is seldom seen, not thrusting itself on the observation of men. It is a pale purple, as if from growing in the shade. It is not remarkable in its stalk and leaves, which indeed are commonly concealed by other plants.
Norway cinquefoil. A wild moss rose in Arethusa Meadow, where are arethusas lingering still.
The sidesaddle-flowers are partly turned up now and make a great show, with their broad red petals flapping like saddle ears ( ? ).
The tree-climbing ivy. Was it out as early as the other? Apparently so. I forgot to say that I visited my hawk's nest, and the young hawk was perched now four or five feet above the nest, still in the shade. It will soon fly. Now, then, in secluded pine woods, the young hawks sit high on the edges of their nests or on the twigs near by in the shade, waiting for their pinions to grow, while their parents bring to them their prey. Their silence also is remarkable, not to betray themselves, nor will the old bird go to the nest while you are in sight. She pursues me half a mile when I withdraw. The buds of young white oaks which have been frost-bitten are just pushing forth again. Are these such as were intended for next year at the base of the leaf -stalk ?
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